And to think, all I had to do was die
I touch the ground, I touch my skull
There’s blood pounding against that inner wall
The time has come to move on,
The lining says,
But instead I give an old friend a call
A beast that I’d known from beyond my sleep
Collecting shells from beyond the deep,
He presses them in my palm and says
“There’s no time to write stories of death,
Not about loss, none for regret.”
That’s right, it’s time to find space for this new life
It’s time to break apart everything
No longer burdened,
Free of all attachments
The stars are looking down at me and smiling
Now I have an infinite of adoring fans
Each one as bright as the next
I’ll keep listening to the whispers of demons,
What else is there? What else is left?
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